Global Warning

Lashing out, your anger bears
a striking resemblance  
to glitter swirling in an anarchist's globe.  
Deafened by your tomb of make-shift glass,
a million eyes watch in abject awe.
 
Earth is a foot in sinking sand,
and your livid fists  
can only foam at humanity's demise.
Chaos, the aspartame for freedom
halts your forward momentum.  
 
They are dying. You watch them drown.  
You imprisoned by a plastic sphere.  
Eyes are bottomless chasms of fear
with strain carving lines around open lips,
wind-up teeth chattering in idle repetition.  
 
Are you stronger than dying breaths scented with mistaken liberty?
 
Are you thicker than the manufactured precedents governments disguise as truth?
 
Ocean, you pull at my eyes with anxious fingers,
but I have yet to pluck them out.  
I have yet to live the dying art that martyrs use so ruthlessly.  
So I stand here sinking into my basest desires,  
because a fading world accepts what my soul refuses.
 
There is litter that stains the shores surrounding you.  
You are the last hurrah before a retreating sun reveals its moon.  
While you still at a sunset, I'm left trembling and bereft.
I shake your liquid pain in my hands.
In my desperation I crack your casing and watch you spill out.
 
In this most recent attempt to release you,
I've discovered we both are given to perpetual mud clotting.